


test your luck

by rexcorvidae



Series: scraps and drabbles [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Hospitals, Introspection, Peter's gonna give these guys anxiety, Team Red, uhh what are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexcorvidae/pseuds/rexcorvidae
Summary: Wade would have nightmares about a different version of this story.In this version, he sits over Peter’s bloody, broken body, Red screaming at him tofucking do somethingwhile Peter chokes on his own blood, tiny [tiny, always tiny, he was only 15, a fuckingbaby, why did Wade ever do this, ever think this wasokay-] hands scrabbling for purchase at the front of the Deadpool suit, begging Wade tohelp me, I’m scared, I don’t know what to doand all Wade could do was sit frozen until those big brown eyes lost their focus, staring up at the sky and seeing nothing.





	test your luck

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is yall. i had a pretty rough morning that put me in a weird headspace and when i tried to work on my actual wips this scene got stuck in my head and i couldn't get it out.
> 
> might add a proper intro/actual context to this at some point but for now it's just a weird in-media-res scene that i ended up being fairly happy with, so hear yall go

But the one thing Wade has always been good at is remembering that shit could have gone down worse than it did. Because there are a million different universes and a million different timelines and this one seems to enjoy fucking him over, for the most part, but some days – some days, he gets lucky.

Like today. Because today, when he sat with Peter propped up against his chest, watching him cough blood all over the front of the Deadpool suit as he petted his hair and pleaded “I know, baby boy, I know, you’re okay, just stay awake for me.” Peter _did_.

He was hurting and bleeding and _terrified,_ but he let Red quiz him on Spanish verbs and put pressure on the bleeding holes in his torso while Wade pressed his cheek to the kid’s hair and tried to stave off the panic attack he felt building in his throat.

And when Stark and co. arrived and tried to take the kid, and that panic attack came full-force, Red didn’t hesitate – pinned him to the fucking ground with an elbow against his carotid until the world went black. And when he woke up an hour later in the (fucking _uncomfortable_ , Stark, you god damn miser) chairs in the SI Med-bay, Red didn’t say shit, or give him Significant Looks like Wilson did, just handed him a cup of coffee and sat down next to him while he called Foggy to explain why he wouldn’t be home for a bit.

Today, May Parker ran in with tears on her face and hugged him like he wasn’t a killer, even though the last vestiges of that panic attack were making him feel cagey and dangerous. Wrapped Red in to it, too, and Wade got to watch on in amusement as Matt’s face went through a series of expressions ranging from deeply touched to “please God, free me from this hell”. She hugged them like they weren’t encouraging her kid to get himself shot at every night, and told them she was so, _so_ glad they were there with him.

Today one of Stark’s doctors walked in with a long list of injuries. Told them about broken bones and ruptured organs and internal bleeding. About how they’d lost him once, briefly, on the table.

But she also told them that he’d make it. He’d be laid up for a while, even with his super-healing, and he was lucky as _hell_ , but-

But he’d be okay.

(Wade would have nightmares about a different version of this story.

In this version, he sits over Peter’s bloody, broken body, Red screaming at him to _fucking do something_ while Peter chokes on his own blood, tiny [tiny, always tiny, he was only 15, a fucking _baby_ , why did Wade ever do this, ever think this was _okay_ -] hands scrabbling for purchase at the front of the Deadpool suit, begging Wade to _help me, I’m scared, I don’t know what to do_ and all Wade could do was sit frozen until those big brown eyes lost their focus, staring up at the sky and seeing nothing.

On the really, really bad nights, the ones where he wakes up feeling Peter’s blood on his hands, he texts the kid stupid Spidey memes until Pete responds with a grumpy emoji and Wade can convince himself that he didn’t really watch him die.)

They’re keeping him knocked out for a few days, which is fair, because high-on-super-drugs Peter, while _deeply_ entertaining, is also a fucking menace – doesn’t appreciate the way the drugs leave him fuzzy and confused, has no understanding of why he needs to leave his IV alone and _stay the fuck in bed_ , and will do neither without constant supervision, and sometimes even _with_ it (the little shit is _fast_ ).

The other Avengers are gone, still cleaning up the shit-show that was today, so when the doctor asks if they’d like to see him before they put him under it’s only him, Red, and May in the waiting room.

And Wade.

Does not want to fucking go in there.

Because it feels like the world’s biggest display of weakness, admitting that he really fucking cares about that kid, even if it’s only to people who already know it.

But Red is making that face that means “I really want to do something but doing it will require me to Display One (1) Emotion” and, well. Maybe, _maybe_ , it would do his anxiety good to see that kid awake and breathing without blood in his fucking lungs, so he drags Red in by the scruff of his neck and smirks when he grumbles but doesn’t pull away.

Peter looks all of his 15 years lying bandaged and broken and half-asleep in the hospital bed, squinting blearily against the lights. “May?”

She’s next to him in an instant, one hand smoothing his hair away from his forehead and smiling at him like she wasn’t crying just a few hours ago, because Pete was a pretty empathetic kid, and if his aunt cried then _he_ cried. “Hey baby. How you feeling?”

Peter considers this. “Mmm. Good. Like, _really_ good. Woah. Am I…?” His eyes flick down to his hand, and he presses down on the mattress curiously “… Weird. Wait. ‘S everyone okay?”

May’s smile is tenser now, something under it like frustration or anger that Wade can’t quite put his finger on. “Yeah, baby. The only one we’re worried about is you.”

“’S good.”

Peter’s eyes slide around the room placidly but light up a little when they land on Wade. “DP? Red?”

Red, true to form, twitches awkwardly by the foot of the bed but doesn’t move. Wade gives a smile that he hopes isn’t too obviously forced and reaches forward to ruffle the kid’s hair. Peter’s blood is still under his fingernails. “Hey, baby boy. You gotta stop doing shit like that. Giving Stark heart problems.”

The joke earns him a sleepy smile before Peter’s face grows serious. “Did it work? Did it- are those people okay?”

‘It’ of course, being the stupid, self-sacrificial martyr shit Peter pulled that should’ve killed him, _would_ ’ve killed him but for super healing and a string of lucky breaks so long it made Wade nauseous.

And Wade kind of wants to scream at him, now that he knows the kid isn’t gonna die. Tell him that it was fucking _stupid_ , that he can’t just do shit like that, he can’t make Wade watch him fucking bleed out.

They’ll have that conversation later, or parts of it.

Wade will stand there and bark at him about how  he was _this fucking close_ to dying, and Peter will look at him with an expression that is too young and too old all at once and tell him seriously, “I could die every time I go out in the suit. I’m- I’m better now, at fighting and planning and stuff – you and Doube D _made_ me better - but still. If I hesitate, or I move the wrong way, just once and-,”

 He makes a gun with his fingers, pulls the trigger. “I’m done. I’ve known that since the first time I went out. And I don’t- I don’t _want_ to die,” He insists, “I really, _really_ don’t. But there wasn’t another way, and I can’t- I can’t let people die just to keep myself safe. I _won’t_.”

And Wade will hate that, hate himself for being proud of Peter in some awful, fucked up way. Because as much as that part of him screams to keep the kid safe, if Peter didn’t think the way he did then Wade wouldn’t know him. He wouldn’t be the same stupid fucking brat that wormed his way into Wade’s soft spots and wouldn’t leave.

So he’ll tug the kid to his chest and feel the way Peter’s head just reaches his collarbones, and promise himself that he’ll see Peter hit his growth spurt.

Because the kid was right – that day, there really wasn’t another option. And if Wade can’t stop him from doing that shit, what he _can_ do is make sure that there’s always an alternative.

But today Wade doesn’t want to think about that shit, and Pete won’t remember it anyways, so he smiles and says “Yeah, kid, they’re alright. You did good.”

Peter gives him another drugged, tired smile, and seems to notice his IV for the first time. Ninja that he is, Matt moves up next to his head and grabs his wrist before Wade or May can blink, snapping “Fucking leave that _alone_ , Christ.”

He gives Matt a dopey smile, looks at him like it’s the first time he’s noticed him, which, given the amount of drugs the kid’s on at the moment, is entirely possible. “Matt?”

“Hi.” Matt fidgets irritably. “You’re a dumbass. Also, we’re going over irregular verbs next Friday, because you’re fucking abysmal at them.”

Peter makes a face to convey his many negative feelings about Matt’s statement. “You’re mean. ‘M gonna tell Foggy you’re bullying me.”

“That’s fine,” Matt tells him, unrepentant. “I’ll tell him about the stupid shit you pulled today. He’ll allow it.” He hasn’t released his grip on Peter’s wrist, and his fingers are resting lightly over the pulse point. Wade pretends not to notice.

The threat takes a while to process, but before Peter can respond, a nurse walks into the room and asks, “Are we ready?”, and gives them a look to make it clear that ‘no’ isn’t really an option. Pete’s head whips around to look at the newcomer, goes tense when he sees her filling a syringe from a tiny bottle, the heart monitor beside him picking up its pace. “Wha- Wha’ are you giving me?”

Red responds before anyone else can, slipping into his smooth, confident lawyer-voice. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s just to help you sleep, kid. That’s all.”

Pete’s still eyeing the nurse warily, but May runs a soothing hand through his hair and he tentatively starts to relax.

“It’s okay, baby,” May soothes, “Just relax. Go to sleep.”

And too drugged, and injured, and exhausted to argue, Peter does.

So, yeah. The universe, most days, seems to enjoy fucking Wade over and giving him good things so it can watch him squirm when it takes them away. But today- today fucking _sucked_ for a while, but it turned out okay. Today, Peter is safe, and healing, and _alive_.

Today, Wade Wilson sleeps, and doesn’t dream.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact! the title of this work in my drafts is "peter does team red a Big Frighten"
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](rexcorvidae.tumblr.com)!!!


End file.
